40. Nyssa #2
The god of sun and healing was deaf. Just as he could not hear the siren’s lure, he could not hear music of any variety.
He did not know the magic that songs possessed or even what his own voice sounded like.
He lived in endless, isolating silence — only included when someone had the wherewithal to sign what they were saying.
And to be unable to heal himself when he could heal all others?
That was a pain that cut deeper than any blade. Knowing that all Apollo could do was give and give, and take nothing for himself — my respect for him reached an all-time high.
Needing a reprieve from my heightened emotions, I turned to Arch, praying his deepest desire was less…
well, deep. I was relieved to see, in his place, the sword he had forged during his father’s trial.
Callidus — the name Arch had given to his weapon — reflected the dimming sky, the sunset mirrored across its blade.
“You haven’t been able to retrieve Callidus either?” I asked.
The sword did not move, but Arch’s deep voice replied from its general vicinity. “No. I’m worried something went wrong with the forging. I should have been able to call it back by now.”
“Nightbreaker is still missing, too.”
“I’ll keep trying. And I’ll let you know if I manage to retrieve her.”
I nodded my thanks and looked to my left. Aros wore a familiar, pale face. She had soft features twisted into a scowl and looked exactly as I remembered her aboard the rotting ship.
“The nereid,” I said curiously. She grinned, tossing her light-blue hair back flirtatiously.
“She saved me. No offence, Nyssa. As much as I’d love to fuck your brains out?—”
A startled laugh burst from the mortal-shaped Aphrodite and my eyes almost popped out of my skull.
“—or you, Aph,” Aros chuckled knowingly. His nereid-shaped faced slipped into seriousness as he continued, voice low. “But I think you’re spoken for.”
The nereid’s sea-blue eyes flicked across the table briefly before returning to my own.
“I need to know why she saved me,” he explained. His deep voice was jarring coming from her perfect pink lips.
“I’m curious about that too,” I murmured. “Why would she defy the lord of the oceans to save a champion in the trial he designed to break us?”
“Because she knew a competition wasn’t worth the life it was taking,” Caelus replied, finally drawing my attention.
He, too, wore a familiar face — one I wasn’t sure how I felt about seeing in his seat.
Across the table, in a lacy black gown, with pale skin, ebony hair, and piercing green eyes, sat me .
My perfect mirror image.
I bit my lip, contemplating the fact that I was Caelus’ deepest desire. Despite the hot and cold signals he’d been sending — ravishing me one moment and avoiding me the next — it was me who sat in his place.
I opted not to announce that to the table and instead reached for two tiny golden chalices filled with a deep red liquid. I handed one to the nereid version of Aros and hooked his arm with my own.
“Bottom’s up?” he asked with the nereid’s beautiful face. I nodded, and we both downed the sour liquid. With any luck, the new effects would override those of the water-that-wasn’t-water.
I turned back to Aros, relieved to see that he looked like himself again, albeit with a still-enlarged, barely concealed cock.
“Are you feeling okay?” Caelus arched a brow from across the table.
“Fine. I don’t feel any different. That drink tasted like a lemon — but I bet you’d taste much sweeter,” I replied. Both of Caelus’ brows were steadily approaching his hairline.
That was your out-loud voice, godling , Velira warned, smirking in her distinctly serpentine way.
“Fuck. I didn’t mean to say that, but you are delicious to look at. Kind of like a storm and a sunrise at the same time.”
Out-loud voice again.
“Fuck.”
Aros chortled next to me as Caelus fought a grin.
“At least you didn’t mention his eyes,” Aros grinned, thinking. “She had such pretty blue eyes,” he gushed abruptly.
“Who did?” Archimedes enquired good-naturedly.
“The sea princess,” Aros replied whimsically. “The water witch. The blue-haired beauty.” He stared dreamily out the open balcony. “I bet she’d taste like a freshwater spring,” he sighed.
Still staring at Caelus, I couldn’t help but gawk at his silver irises, locked onto mine. I rested my chin in hand and spoke softly. “ Your eyes aren’t blue. They remind me of a summer storm. They’re beautiful — just like the rest of you.”
He cleared his throat, and Vel huffed a rumbling laugh. Lykos nudged Caelus’ ribs in jest as the god before me flushed copper.
“I bet you’d taste like caramel,” I continued.
Another thought popped into my head — and subsequently out of my mouth. “Can we just kiss again, please?”
Tableware clattered as shocked gods turned to stare.
“Shit. That was definitely my out-loud voice.”
It most definitely was, Vel cackled.
Caelus smirked wolfishly. “I can think of better things to do than kiss, though I’d love to do that again, too. Perhaps something a little… tastier.”
His eyes dropped. The pink potion surged anew through my veins. That little bud of nerves ached with a need so fierce, I had half a mind to ease it here.
Myself.
Right now.
Apollo shattered my spiralling desire with a helpful suggestion that perhaps we should try something else.
I ignored him, clenching my thighs together to quell the throbbing.
It didn’t help.
Caelus grimaced as his nostrils flared, and I knew my arousal hung thick in the air — just like theirs. It was a domino effect, scent triggering scent.
“Sure, why not?” Aros responded to the god of sun. “Let’s see what else we can enlarge,” he said as he unwrapped a blue toffee “Mmm. This is disgusting,” he announced happily.
He frowned suddenly. “Disgusting,” he repeated, baffled. “What? No. I meant… disgusting.” His face was a comical portrait of bewilderment. He met my amused gaze and said, “You’re hideous.”
I snorted, brows rising.
Just like that, my arousal had been shocked back down to a manageable level.
“Well that’s not very nice,” Aphrodite purred, back to her usual amused self. She shot me a sly wink, and suddenly, I understood. It was her gift of desire that had fogged my mind. And now, it was her mercy that let me breathe easily again. “Arch, you should try the pink one,” she suggested.
Wary but curious, Archimedes reached for the suggested toffee. He chewed cautiously, eyes locked on the goddess of love.
“It tastes like a warm hug,” he offered carefully. “Oh, good. I meant to say that.”
He grinned at a scowling Aros, who replied with a sarcastic, “Oh, good. I’m so happy for you and not at all jealous.”
Aros suddenly sat back, delight morphing his features. “I can’t lie, and you can’t tell the truth!”
I frowned, unable to understand why he was gleeful, until Apollo grinned and signed a single, clarifying sentence.
Aros is the liar.
Oh.
Oh, this could be fun. I smirked.
Ask them if they’ve pictured you naked, Velira suggested coyly.
Vel! I admonished — but asked anyway.
Caelus looked horrified.
“No,” they answered simultaneously.
Interesting.
“What do you really think of each other?” I followed up, my lip curving wickedly.
“I dislike you and the relationship you have with your father,” Aros lied matter-of-factly, arms crossed over his broad chest. He looked unruffled — like admitting it had cost him nothing.
Caelus raised his brows and eyed Archimedes. Arch shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Either the pink liquor had reached its boiling point, or he was withholding his truth.
Arch sighed deeply, resigned. “Quite frankly, I think you’re ravishing, and I enjoy watching you train shirtless,” he admitted with closed eyes and a coppery blush staining his cheeks.
A flicker of white down to my left caught my eye. I cringed.
Oh, Tartarus, I did not just see that enormous thing twitch — nope. No, I did not.
Velira cackled through my mind. The adolescent dragon’s laughter scratched awfully down my spine in sharp, smoky rasps.
Hush, you.
“Are you hiding any secrets?” Aphrodite asked coyly, leaning forward to rest her arms on the table.
“No,” Aros answered through pursed lips.
“Yes,” Archimedes confirmed.
Aphrodite smirked like a panther toying with her prey. “And does your secret have anything to do with the trials?”
“I don’t think they should have to answer that,” Caelus interjected sharply. “Everyone is entitled to their secrets.”
He’s hiding something as well.
Agreed. His scent just soured.
“But not everyone’s secrets will affect the entire realm. Or all three, in fact,” she said, her voice hardening. “Answer the question.”
Arch groaned and muttered a quiet “Yes.”
Aros clenched his jaw, glanced at me, and quite literally, lied through his teeth.
“No.”
Aphrodite opened her mouth, but I cut her off before she was able to utter a syllable.
“That’s enough, Aph,” I said quietly. “Let the men keep their little secrets and gambles. The last trial is tomorrow , and I’m willing to bet that Hera has ensured it’s the most difficult one yet.”
Everyone sobered.
“After all, there can only be one winner, right? A single crown for a single ruler.”